


Asylum

by maywemeetagain100



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maywemeetagain100/pseuds/maywemeetagain100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 100 fall to Earth, but what happens when they discover that the mountain has been abandoned for centuries; that the grounders aren’t hostile? With nothing standing in their way, nothing to harm them, they have nothing to worry about but themselves. Who says that it’s going to be easy, though? They are criminals after all…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asylum

A loud thud circles through the dropship, silencing everyone within its walls, and the toxic, radiation soaked air seeps in through the open door. A brunette steps cautiously out onto the open door of the dropship, allowing the wind to sweep the hair from her shoulders, and carry it in the opposite direction. A wide grin spreads across her cheeks as her steps become more confident, leading her to the edge of the platform that the lowered door had created. With a slight jump, her feet land in the dirt, for the first time in her life, and she gulps down the fresh air the earth has to offer.

Octavia tosses her arms into the air, with a loud scream, “We’re back, bitches!”

The brunette is almost knocked off of her feet by the rush of bodies sprinting past her, throwing themselves out of the ship, their feet pummelling into the earth. She feels a large hand fall onto the centre of her back and looks to her right, seeing her brother beside her, steadying her. She offers him a wide grin as a blonde girl approaches her on her left, her mouth hanging open slightly as she too, wears a huge grin on her face. She offers the dark haired siblings a gentle nod, silently confirming that she has no problem with them, what they have, or haven’t done. It’s in the past and today, they begin their future, together. Today, their kind has stepped foot on the ground for the first time in a hundred years.

Clarke steps away from the siblings, pulling the map her father had gifted her, from her back pocket, and looking intently at the pencil markings. Her head lifts up, slowly, involuntary, her lower jaw hanging down slightly, leaving her mouth agape. She stares off into the distance, her crystal orbs landing on a mountain peak over the horizon.

“Why so serious, Princess?” The voice comes out of nowhere, causing the blonde to roll her eyes, before facing the boy, “It’s not like we died in a fiery explosion.”

Clarke is still pissed, and her words shoot like venom-soaked daggers, “Try telling that to the two guys who tried to follow you out of their seats,” she turns her attention back to the map.

“You don’t like being called Princess,” the boy states, “Do you, Princess?”

Clarke simply rolls her eyes, ignoring the irritating remark as she further studies the map. At the sound of yet another voice cutting in, the blonde almost snaps, until she realises that the voice belongs to one of the siblings. “Do we have a problem here?”

Clarke can see the boy opening his mouth to speak, but she speaks for him. “Yes,” she speaks to Bellamy, rather than Finn, “You see that peak over there?” She waits for a nod from the older sibling, “Mount Weather,” she explains, “They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain.” Finn opens his mouth to speak once more, but Clarke, already knowing how predictable the boy is, after knowing him for less than an hour, answers his unspoken question, “It means, there’s a radiation soaked forest standing between us and our next meal.”

Concern sweeps over the older siblings features, but he forces it down, they had plenty of time to get to the mountain, and he voices this to Clarke, “Tonight, we celebrate,” he offers, focusing all his attention on the blonde and ignoring the spacewalker, “Tomorrow, we travel to the mountain.” Clarke almost objects, but the silent plead resting in Bellamy’s eyes tugs at her heartstrings, and instead, she nods slowly. Taking one last look at the mountain, before tucking her father’s map back into her back pocket, she follows Bellamy back to the dropship, the spacewalker left to trail behind the two inevitable leaders.

The three criminals reach the dropship, only to find John Murphy towering over Clarke’s ex-best friend. Bellamy quickly runs to his aid, standing between the two of them, his chest puffed out, warning the criminal off of the injured boy. He silently threatens the slightly shorter boy, his eyes narrowed as he looks to Clarke for her input. Instead of hearing Clarke’s voice, he rolls his eyes at the annoying sound of the spacewalker’s, “Kid’s got one leg. How about you wait until it’s a fair fight?”

Before Clarke can stop herself, she is marching over to the spacewalker, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to one side. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice is gruff and her eyes hold a hint of anger, “Bellamy had it under control.”

Before the spacewalker can even open his mouth to respond, Bellamy is beside the two, gently coaxing Clarke nearer the dropship. This is a day to celebrate, for everyone, he doesn’t want Clarke upset over a minor incident. He pulls a young looking boy towards them, his hair, slightly shorter than shoulder length, clings to his neck and a pair of goggles forces the stray strands from his eyes. His frame is small, skinny, as though he hadn’t eaten in months and it causes Clarke to rethink her decision on the mountain. Her thoughts are pushed aside when she watches Bellamy, politely, pull a glass bottle from the boy’s hands. She momentarily wonders how the glass wasn’t shattered with their rough landing, until the bottle is handed to her. She cautiously takes the bottle from the older sibling’s hand, popping the lid, and taking a gentle sniff. Ignoring everything in her being, that tells her not to accept the offer, she takes a generous swig, before coughing roughly.

“Shit, that’s strong,” she mutters, earning a smirk from Bellamy as she lifts the bottle to her lips once again, and takes another swig.

“Two much of that stuff will kill you,” a fourth voice chimes in, as the owner slaps his hand on the shoulder of the boy wearing the goggles.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke slurs slightly, having never tasted alcohol in her life before, “I don’t know who either of you are.” She ignores the burn in her throat and her body’s rejection to the foreign liquid, taking another gulp from the bottle, she allows the liquid to crawl down her throat.

“I’m Monty,” the dark-haired boy delicately pulls the bottle from Clarke’s hands, earning yet another smirk from the older sibling, and a glower from the blonde, “and this is Jasper.” He pats the boy’s shoulder for emphasis.   

Bellamy suggests sitting closer to the fire, offering Clarke the bottle back when she seems to resist the suggestion. The blonde soon ignores her resistance, almost snatching the bottle from Bellamy’s hands, like a child with the promise of candy, and sauntering over to the fire. The three remaining men exchange looks, sharing a chuckle, before following Clarke over to her chosen spot, the spacewalker forgotten somewhere in their conversation. They lower themselves around the fire, close to the blonde, Octavia soon joining them, quickly sparking up a conversation. Clarke loses count of how many swigs she has taken, but continues to pour the liquid down her throat anyway.

“How about we make this a little more interesting?” Bellamy smirks, earning a concerned glance from his sister. “Kings Cup anyone?” He chuckles.

“I don’t think we have enough liquor for that,” Octavia gestures to Clarke, who still has the bottle tilted downwards into her mouth.

Monty stands from his position round the fire, moving to stand behind the siblings and placing his hands on both of their shoulders, “I got you covered.” He taps gently on their shoulders, before disappearing into the dropship. Jasper soon develops a huge grin, getting up to follow his friend, soon returning with him and several bottles of liquor, along with cups.

“No excuse now, little sister,” Bellamy grins, taking the bottles and cups that are offered to him. He gently pries the bottle from Clarke’s hands, ignoring the disappointed look in her eyes as he pours the remaining liquid into a cup. “We’re switching to cups now, Clarke,” he chuckles, “We’re playing King’s Cup. You know the rules?” Clarke nods. “Good, so no more drinking until the game starts.”

He disperses full cups of whatever liquor Monty and Jasper had managed to smuggle onto the ship, reminding himself to ask them how they managed it later, before finally handing Clarke’s cup back to her. When Octavia is certain that everyone has a drink, she pulls a deck of battered cards from her back pocket, shuffling them quickly before scattering them in the dirt, allowing her brother to place an empty cup in the middle.

“Who’s starting?” Bellamy asks, a smirk on his face.

“It was your idea, you start,” Clarke slurs, surprising the others, who thought she was out of it long ago, with the amount of liquor she had consumed.

“Okay,” Bellamy responds, picking a card from the pile, “Seven, heaven.”

Everyone’s arms shoot up into the air, reaching for the heavens, as the card suggests. Bellamy’s is the last to go up, and he grumbles at the smirk he earns from his sister, as he takes a swig from his cup, letting the strong liquid burn his throat. He would never live this down.

Now, it was Octavia’s turn, and she snatches a card from the pile, “Six is for dicks.”

The boys all raise their cups, tilting them in the air, as though they were making a toast, before pressing the cups to their lips.

Monty pulls a card next, “Five, bust a jive.” He props himself up on his heels, spinning whilst lifting himself up from the ground, and lowering himself back down towards the end of the spin. Jasper easily mimics the movement, and to everyone’s surprise, so does Clarke. Bellamy almost stumbles, but caches himself before the others could notice, avoiding the foul liquor. Octavia lands the move perfectly and it seems as though the game would go on forever, until Jasper trips over his own foot, and lands flat on his face. He quickly laughs it off, taking a gulp from his cup.

Still slightly embarrassed, Jasper sheepishly pulls a card from the pile, “Four is for whores.”

The girls quickly take a sip from their cups before Clarke pulls a card. “Eight is for a mate,” she pauses for a moment, “Octavia, you’re my mate.”

The brunette isn’t too worried, Clarke hasn’t had to drink much since the game started. The circle now comes back to Bellamy, who draws a three, for me. He picks up his cup and swigs down the liquor. Octavia soon follows, drawing a two, for you, and ordering her brother to drink. Monty then draws a card, a nine, bust a rhyme. He starts with the word ‘ship’ and the others follow suit. _Grip, slip, hip, tip, nip, rip._ Clarke cannot think of a word and simply relents, lifting her cup, which causes Octavia to do the same. Jasper waits for the girls to finish before fishing for another card, ten for categories, and wanting to switch things up slightly, Jasper picks sex positions for a category, taking the lead with ‘missionary’. _Doggy, cowgirl, sixty-nine, reverse cowgirl, spooning, stand and deliver._ Bellamy falters, grumbling when he has to drink. Clarke smirks, drawing another card, ace, waterfall. Clarke happily lifts her cup to her lips, chugging down the rest of her drink, and causing the others to do the same. Bellamy refills the cups and the game continues until, surprisingly, Jasper pulls the last king and ends the game for all of them.

Clarke decides that it’s a good thing when she tries to stand, but can’t due to her excessive alcohol consumption. The group decide to sleep where there are, their minds set on their journey tomorrow, after Bellamy had asked them to join him and Clarke prior to their game. Monty, being the least affected by the liquor, stumbles into the dropship to gather several blankets and each of the group takes one, minus Clarke, who is already snoring lightly. Monty smiles, draping the thin, orange sheet over the blonde before settling down next to the fire. He falls asleep, with the excitement of their pending journey on his mind.          

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just the beginning, it will get better, I just wanted to offer a quick insight to the character's personalities, and focus slightly more on the original 100 and their friendships in this fic. Everything will hopefully slot into place in the next few chapters but let me know what you think and whether I should continue or not. Thank you for your support :)


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